


falling leaves

by veorlian



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veorlian/pseuds/veorlian
Summary: 31 Days of Wayhaven prompt: AUAggie Greene is perfectly happy as the librarian for the Wayhaven Public Library, on her own with her books. That is, until the woman of her dreams (who may or may not be a vampire) opens up a bookstore down the road. Things are about to get complicated.Snippet: There was magic everywhere, if you knew how to look, and strolling through the streets with Nat was a magic all its own. The mid-afternoon sun reflected off of her face in a dizzying array of red and gold, and the wind lay still in order to better hear her gentle voice.
Relationships: Female Detective/Natalie "Nat" Sewell
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	falling leaves

**Author's Note:**

> “A good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read.” - Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the leaves were just beginning to turn. Wayhaven shone vibrant yellow, orange, red, even in the dim pre-dawn light. Most of the houses were still dark, still asleep. But in the windows of the Wayhaven Public Library, the lights glowed.

There is a particular kind of magic unique to small-town libraries. They’re warm even in the dark of winter, like clover honey stirred into tea. The light is soft, diffused, like the sun shining through storm clouds. The books are faded and tattered in places, but lovingly repaired.

And if you’re alone, and you hold very still, the books may whisper to you. Stories have a habit of taking on a life of their own, and they want to be read. They want to be heard. They want to be known.

This was a truth that Agatha Greene, head librarian and occasional hedge witch, knew very well. She hummed softly to herself as she gently shelved the returned books. Aggie was one of those rare people who were exactly, precisely where they wanted to be, doing exactly what they wanted to be doing. She’d been five years old when she’d decided what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, sitting on the faded carpet, raptly listening to the librarian read. She couldn’t remember now what story it was, only the warm feeling in her chest.

Odd, the way that we remember things, Aggie had always thought. She could hear the gentle click of knitting needles, the dry rasp of turning pages as clear as though it were yesterday, but she couldn’t remember her father’s voice.

She shook that thought away and carefully finished putting away the last of the books. The air thrummed around her with latent magic. She smiled softly and shut her eyes, and she listened. At random, she selected a book from the shelf and deftly picked it up. The grim cover of _Carmilla_ stared back at her. She shrugged; if that’s what she was meant to read, then that’s what she would read. Aggie settled down behind her desk and delicately opened the book, running her hand down the first page. Around her, the stories waited.

When eight o’clock rolled around, Aggie flipped the open sign and settled back down into her chair. Sunday mornings were generally fairly quiet, which meant she could have some time to herself before the knitting circle and the book club arrived in the afternoon.

At least, that was the theory.

“Miss Greene, important news!” an enthusiastic voice called. Aggie looked up as Mrs. Thorn, the town’s foremost gossip (a coveted title, in a place like Wayhaven), bustling towards her. She resignedly closed her book and set it down next to her, keeping a hand resting on the cover.

“How can I help?” she asked politely.

“That city girl opening up a bookstore arrived early! She’s setting up now!” Mrs. Thorn exclaimed. She exhaled heavily, her face flushed, either from booking it over here or from the cool fall air. Possibly both.

“That’s nice?” Aggie hazarded.

“Well, as you’re on the welcoming committee, and you know the most about books, we thought it’d be best if you go and make the introductions.”

“That’s a nice thought, but I haven’t got anyone else in until later,” Aggie said. Mrs. Thorn waved away her protests.

“Nonsense! I’ve brought along my Timothy, he’s been volunteering plenty. He can take over for a few hours,” she said airily. Indeed, her grandson was hunched up behind her, tapping away at his phone. Aggie didn’t have the heart to tell her that her Timothy generally skipped out on his volunteer hours to spend time with his friends.

“Well, alright,” she relented.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Thorn set down a magnificent, freshly baked apple pie in front of Aggie. “And bring this along for the young lady, with my compliments.”

Which was how a thoroughly bemused Aggie ended up walking down the street, her thick, hand-knit scarf snugly wrapped around her neck, a warm apple pie in her hands. The fallen leaves crinkled beneath her feet, and the cool breeze kissed her face. There was magic everywhere, if you knew how to look.

She turned the corner and was suddenly face to face with the most dazzling woman she’d ever seen. She was several inches taller than Aggie, with tawny-brown skin and short dark hair that framed her face. She was also, Aggie realized belatedly, wearing a nearly identical leather jacket to her own, albeit brown rather than burgundy.

“One of us is going to have to change,” she said automatically, before her brain caught up to her mouth.

“I’m sorry?” the woman asked. Aggie cursed herself in every language she knew (two fluently, four conversationally, and a smattering of middle english swear words).

“I, uh, don’t think we’ve met. I know most of the folks in town,” she said. She shifted the pie to one hand to hold out the other. “I’m Aggie Greene.”

The woman smiled warmly. It lit up her whole face like a shooting star against the night sky. She accepted Aggie’s hand and shook it. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Greene. I’m Natalie Sewell,” she said.

“You can call me Aggie, everyone does.” 

“Then you can call me Nat.” Nat’s smile was infectious, and Aggie found herself grinning like a fool. She realized that was still holding onto Nat’s hand, and she reluctantly let go.

“Well then, Nat, I think this pie is for you,” she said. “Courtesy of Mrs. Thorn and the Wayhaven welcoming committee. As the head librarian, they’ve asked me to check if you wanted any help setting up,” Aggie explained. Nat graciously accepted the pie and looked back to her shop thoughtfully.

“My friends have already helped with most of the unloading, but I'm afraid they're rather hopeless with the organizing. As it happens, a librarian is exactly what I need right now,” she said, turning back to face Aggie.

“Not everyday you hear that,” Aggie said wryly. She and Nat smiled at each other for a moment, neither entirely willing to move away. 

“Shall we…?” Aggie asked.

“Yes, of course,” Nat replied. They fell into step together on the way to the store.

 _Sewell’s Books & Antiques_ was everything Aggie could’ve hoped for. Even with piles of boxes littered around, there was a warm familiarity to the air. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls expectantly, and ornate antiquities were scattered across the floor. She carefully set the pie down on the counter and rolled up her sleeves. Her hands were already itching to dive into the books.

“Where do we start?” she asked eagerly. Nat’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I’ve never seen anyone so excited to sort books,” she said. Aggie blushed red up to the tips of her ears.

“Oh, I just--”

“No, no, it’s wonderful. I think we’re going to get along well,” Nat said warmly, and Aggie thought that she’d never smiled more in her life than she had in the past ten minutes. She opened her mouth to say something else, and then shut it again. Talking to stunning women wasn’t exactly her forte, but books she could manage. She picked up the nearest neatly labelled box, expertly balanced it on her hip, and got to work.

They worked in companionable silence, the only sounds the ticking of the antique grandfather clock and the gentle sound of bound books sliding onto shelves.

“If it’s not prying, what made you decide to move out to the middle of nowhere to open an antique store?” Aggie asked curiously as she shelved the impressive collection of medieval literature. She was delighted to catch sight of a translated edition of _Silence,_ and she gently ran a hand along the spine.

“I’ve always wanted to open my own shop, but there’s just never been the time,” Nat explained. “I used to work as an archivist in the city, but I’m afraid that doesn’t really allow for talking with people very much. A colleague told me there was a lease coming up here, and it just felt too good to pass up,” Nat said, with that charming smile that Aggie was growing to love. Possibly too much, she thought. Her eyebrows knitted together at that, and she surreptitiously studied Nat as she sorted the books. Aggie blinked and opened her eyes, and then she opened her eyes again.

Nat’s aura was a soothing blue, as she’d been expecting, but there was something else. It left a cloying taste on her tongue, a faint ringing in her ears. Her eyes started to ache as she looked too hard, pressure building against her temples. She blinked a few times and shook her head.

A vampire, huh? Or possibly a powerful fae. Difficult to tell, without her spell book. She supposed it was only a matter of time before the Agency sent replacements for the last unit in town. It was certainly going to make for a change.

Still, she didn’t get the sense that Nat was using pheromones to manipulate her, her protective enchantments would’ve picked up on that. Which meant...what? She really was just that dazzling? Aggie rubbed at her temples, willing away the headache.

“Everything alright?” Nat asked, concern in her voice. Aggie smiled weakly.

“I'm okay,” she reassured her. Nat glanced over at the clock and sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“I'm afraid I've made you late for work,” she fretted. “Let me walk you back?”

“I wouldn't want to trouble you,” Aggie protested.

“Please, it’s the least I can do.” How could she say no?

“Then yes, I’d like that very much,” Aggie said.

Nat rose and dusted off her jeans. She extended a hand to help Aggie up, and where they touched sent a jolt of electricity up Aggie’s arm. She dismissed it as a build up of ambient magic, but she knew that was a lie. The way Nat’s warm brown eyes widened suggested that she felt it too. They each held on just a second too long.

There was magic everywhere, if you knew how to look, and strolling through the streets with Nat was a magic all its own. The mid-afternoon sun reflected off of her face in a dizzying array of red and gold, and the wind lay still in order to better hear her gentle voice. Before Aggie was even fully aware of it, they were walking the familiar stairs to the library, and pushing open the door.

Aggie was suddenly self-conscious. Nat had come from the big city, she’d probably seen libraries three times the size of this one, with those slidey ladders that Aggie loved so much but couldn’t fit into the budget. A lot of things couldn’t fit into the budget. 

The well-worn rugs were patched in several places. The children’s section had a chaotic collection of drawings and the walls were permanently covered in marker artwork. The knitting corner had piles of yarn stacked high, and the computer section was at least ten years out of date. All things that Aggie adored but was suddenly hyper-aware of.

“I imagine it’s not what you’re used to,” Aggie said, awkwardly rubbing at the back of her neck. Nat glanced down at her, a gentle smile on her lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. Aggie’s face flushed a bright, burning red.

“Thank you,” she managed, ducking her head. “I know you have more setting up to do, if you like I’d be happy to help you again once we close.”

“You’re very kind,” Nat said. “As thanks, may I treat you to dinner?”

Aggie’s heart stuttered to a halt. “I-- yes, I’d like that.”

“Wonderful, then it’s a date.”

Nat smiled down at her, and then headed back to the store. Aggie settled back down behind her desk, sending a thoroughly relieved Timothy on his way. She picked back up her book, and the corners of her lips turned up in a wry smile.

 _Carmilla,_ indeed. The books always did have a sense of humour. She got the sense that this particular story would turn out happier than it had in the book. And when it came to stories, she was usually right.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe when nanowrimo is done....i'll come back and make this a longer fic?


End file.
